


Cold

by CrimeAlley1048



Category: Batfamily - Fandom, Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), batfam - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-19 05:15:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22539118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimeAlley1048/pseuds/CrimeAlley1048
Summary: It's cold out.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Damian Wayne
Comments: 7
Kudos: 180





	Cold

“No,” said Damian, and he turned back to the screen propped up on his coffee table.

Tim rolled his eyes. “Bruce says you have to. Come on.”

“I said I’m staying here.”

“Bruce said you— It’s a photo op. I don’t want to come either, but we all have to do it. Put on a coat and get in the car.”

“I will not.”

“You’ll make us late.”

“I’ll do you one worse.”

“You’ll make Bruce mad.”

“How novel.”

Tim plopped himself down on the couch, close enough that Damian had to pull his feet away to avoid getting sat on. He leaned forward and paused whatever show was flashing on that screen.

“Hey!” Damian protested.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I,” said Damian, pulling his blanket defensively up to his chin.

Tim glanced up at the ceiling and found a heating vent directly above them. That made sense; the spot underneath it was roasting. It wasn’t that cold outside.

“Cut it out,” Tim told him.

“Leave me alone.”

“I will when you get up.”

“You don’t seem to be grasping this”

Tim grabbed an edge of the blanket and tugged. Damian pulled something sharp from somewhere on his person and threw it so quickly Tim barely had time to dodge. It whizzed past his shoulder and thumped harmlessly on the carpet across the cavernous living room. Damian made a face of exaggerated disappointment and yanked back his blanket.

“I’ll let you drive,” Tim offered.

“I’ll let you keep your limbs if you walk away now.”

“We can stop by the pizza place you like on our way back.”

“You can stop this whole conversation whenever you want to. By walking away. Right now.”

Tim briefly considered tossing Damian over his shoulder and carrying him out the door. Tim quickly reconsidered. That would not be a good idea.

He sighed. What now?

“Damian,” he tried, one more time. “We really need to go.”

“I’m not going outside.”

“Why not?”

“I just won’t.”

There was something off in his voice. Tim leaned back against the couch cushions, studying Damian.

“What’s up?”

“What’s… up?”

“Why are you being difficult?”

Damian stared back at him, blanket still pulled around himself.

He blinked. “Have you… met me?”

“Fair point.” Tim sighed again. “What exactly is it that you don’t want to do?”

“Go outside.”

“Why?”

“It’s cold.”

“It’s not that cold.”

“It’s cold.”

“You have a coat. Wear it.”

Damian shook his head, pulled his blanket up over it, and wedged himself further into the couch.

“Okay,” Tim conceded. “It’s cold. I’ll pull the car around. You’ll be out for four seconds.”

“Four seconds too long.” Damian’s voice came out muffled behind the blanket. “I’m not doing it.”

“Why not?”

“Cold.”

“For real why not?”

Nothing. The mound of blanket did not answer.

Tim reached out slowly, paused, and decided against his better judgment to pull the blanket away again. This time Damian let him do it.

“Tell me,” he said.

“Cold hurts.”

“Hurts what?”

Damian drew a short, vertical line across his chest with a finger.

Oh. Tim leaned forward.

“Explain?”

Damian tapped the same area. “Feels like the cold is inside me and I can’t get warm again.”

“What do you mean?”

Damian shrugged.

“Is that the place where you…?”

“Got stabbed?” Damian asked, matter of factly. “Yes.”

“So that hurts.”

“Yes. It hurts my chest, and it feels like my heart is cracking open. I can’t breathe, and it lasts for hours.”

“Even if you’re only cold for a few seconds?”

“That’s correct.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. So I’m staying here.”

Tim thought about this. “You went outside for patrol last night.”

“I did. That was important. And I’m still cold. Feel.”

Damian held out a hand. Tim took it and almost flinched. Damian’s fingers were icy.

“Okay,” he said, sitting back and breaking the contact. “Okay, well. I’ll call Bruce? Tell him you’re sick?”

“I still want to go on patrol tonight.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Fine then, I’m sick. I’ll be sick tonight and tomorrow. I’ll say I caught a bug. And if you decide you don’t want to go out tonight, you can stay with me instead. Say you need my help with a case or something.”

“Not believable.”

“Say I need your help with a case or something.”

“Very believable. I will consider it.”

“You could be nicer right now, you know. I’m doing you a favor.”

Damian’s eyes flicked obviously between Tim, the knife on the floor, and back to Tim. Alright. Message received.

“Well. If you’ll excuse me.” Tim pulled out his phone and backed out of the living room. “I’ll be in my room watching movies, eating ice cream, pretending to be sick.”

“Whatever.”

“I’m going to sleep for twenty hours. It’ll be great.”

Damian pointedly unpaused his show.

“Too bad someone already took the good blanket off of my bed.”

“I’m not giving it back.”

“Didn’t expect you to.”

“Thanks.”

“What was that?”

“Perish.”

“Thought so.” Tim gave Damian a half-wave and closed the door behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> Always figured that folks who die come back cold


End file.
